Session Ninety-Five - October 13, 2012

Wherein the ongoing story of the FtF campaign may be found ...

Session Ninety-Five - October 13, 2012

Postby Matt » Tue Apr 16, 2013 11:41 pm

Nolus 9, 732

“Perhaps you will attend me in my chambers,” said Ewen.

“I could, Sir Ewen, but the battlements might afford us more privacy,” replied Sir Kelwyn Sawyne.

Moments before Sir Kelwyn had revealed himself to be a Deryni spy, and now he was asking Sir Ewen to accompany him to a solitary dark place. But he claimed also to be Ewen’s servant, sent by his father, and Ewen was no coward. He let Kelwyn lead him through the servant’s quarters, down a level on the great spiral staircase, and into a secluded spot between the keep and the gatehouse. The pair walked out to the top of a far tower, and Sir Kelwyn dismissed the sentry so they could be alone.

Kelwyn pointed toward the river, to the flotilla of Viking longboats. Ewen counted twelve, nine on the now-uninhabited stretch of bank on the west side and three on the east.

“There’s one missing,” said Kelwyn. “And if all went according to plan, the one that’s missing is the one that most of the booty of the Silver Caravan was stored in.

“Being taken upstream?”

“More like midriver.”

“They sank it?”

“Yes. Can’t carry everything away. Much of that went on while the battle was raging, although I imagine the sinking took place a short time ago.”

“A painful thing for a Harbaalese prince to endure.”

“He may not know about it yet. I wouldn’t want to be the one to tell him.”

“What of the prince’s father?”

“The prince’s father is dead. King Tralis was his name. Old age.”

“And his heir?”

“King Lerden, present King of Harbaal, He may be back there for all I know. Prince Bjan, the commander here, is his younger brother.”

“So I gathered. How long have you been here?”

“I have been in Caer Olokand almost three months. I was sent to keep an eye on Sir Edric Quarne.”

“I hadn’t noticed anything about Sir Edric worth keeping an eye on.”

“I haven’t had an easier task since I was a page. By day you will find him close by the prince, blustering. In battle, you will find him deep in the thin of it. By night, you will find him passed out with a mug of ale in one arm and the wench who brought to him in the other. All that is needed for this task is slight regard.”

“Now you have me to look after as well, Sir Kelwyn. Your task has become less slight.”

“My task is not so much to look after you, Sir Ewen, but to aid and assist for as long as you will need me here.”

“I understand. Your place is here.”

“It’s not a permanent attachment.”

“Permanence does not seem to be in the cards of the occupants of Caer Olokand.”

“No. It’s been difficult bolstering them.”

“Tell me about the timing. I gather my father feels it important that this castle not fall prematurely. What do you understand of that?”

Kelwyn hesitated, then said “It is easy for a gamester to dice for one kingdom. The difficulty is dicing for two.”

Ewen studied the river and thought. “Tell me what you think of Prince Brandis and his frame of mind at this time.”

“He is a young man who is growing up quickly. If he survives this ordeal, he has the potential to grow into a formidable king. Better, perhaps, than his father.”

“He will defend this castle, you think, to the last?”

“No. He will defend it almost to the last, but he knows that nothing will be served by his death, or even worse, his capture. Before the end, he would seek to escape. But not until the end.”

“Prince Bjan will ransom him?”

“I would think he would, yes. Bjan seems to be looking for loot at the moment, and a prince that is heir to the throne is worth a great deal more alive than dead. Perhaps as much as another Silver Caravan.”

“What do you know of Dragoran Shengaad?”

“How interesting that you should ask about him. He only recently came to our attention. He is a Savoryan Shek P’var, we believe a shenava. He has been assisting Prince Bjan – for how long, we’re not sure. There has been some thought of trying to interrogate him, but nothing came of it.

“My little Navehan friend found him formidable.”

“As a Savoryan, he has the potential to be formidable, and that’s why we haven’t moved against him. We don’t know to what extent he has been aiding the vikings here in Olokand, but we do know that he has scouted far and wide for them, within the kingdom.”

“Did he provided the intelligence that allowed them the ambush at Ovendel?”

“Almost certainly. When we learned you were with the army, we almost prevented it. Your performance, and that of your people, was most admirable.”

Ewen nodded. “I am giving much thought to how I can best affect things now that I am in Caer Olokand. It would help to know whether it is in our interest that Kaldor should attempt to come north and relieve this castle again, or if they should despair of this, as I may be in a position to influence that decision.”

“By the time they could do so, it is very likely the Vikings will have left. They are on the verge of it. They are making one last push to take the castle, if they succeed they will stay here. This is undesirable. Thus, they will fail. But they will be back.” He smiled with evident self-satisfaction.

“In that case, I suppose it of some moment whether myself and my companions are here when that attempt is made. If we are, it would of course be necessary of us to contribute to the defense of the castle.”

“Of course. And kill as many Vikings as you can.”

“With us gone, it may alter the odds in the Viking’s favor.”

“It might slightly, but it won’t make any difference in the end. Your marginal effect was not factored into the plan anyway.”

Sir Ewen regarded this comment with a single arched eyebrow. “When might you expect the next push by Prince Bjan?”

“I would figure shortly before dawn.”

“Well then, I would suggest that we both get ourselves a bit of rest.”

“Very well, Sir Ewen.” With that, he led Ewen back along the battlements. It began to rain. The pair went back inside. Sir Kelwyn stopped in the servants’s quarters, and bid Sir Ewen good night. Sir Ewen returned to his quarters to get what sleep he could before the attack.

Nolus 10, 732

At three in the morning, Sir Ewen’s pitch-perfect internal clock woke him. “Now for battle,” he thought. He roused the rest of the party.

“I have received word of an imminent attack. We will assist in the defense of the castle.

Despite the suddenness of the news, the party immediately moved to prepare. “Tora, fetch my armor,” said Sir Baris. In Tora’s absence, Sir Ewen informed the party of what Sir Kelwyn had told him, and told them he did not wish the castle to fall at this time. They were to defend Caer Olokand to the best of their ability.

Kaelyn and Cekiya withdrew to the throne room. Sir Baris, Sir Ewen and Tora armed and went to the Great Hall. Just before dawn, the alarum came “To arms! To arms! The Vikings attack!”

After a discreet interval to hide their advanced knowledge, Sir Ewen shouted “To the great hall!”

“To kill Vikings?” said Sir Baris.

“Consider yourself unleashed, Sir Baris,” said Ewen.

To the fray ran Prince Brandis, Sir Edric, Sir Kathel, and Sir Hearn, captain of the guard. Alongside them were Sir Parles Tralaver and Sir Telek Sumsby, two knights who had been serving their feudal duty when the Vikings trapped them in the castle, and likewise also Sir Erdril Ethasiel, and his squire and brother, Branal. Ewen wondered if the Baron of Setrew, whose family name was also Ethasiel, was related to Sir Erdril. He remembered Sir Danyes Bernan, who had debauched the Baron’s sister; the girl was tragically killed by a stone that fell from a roof, and Bernan was the chief suspect.

“The Vikings are attacking again! Man the walls!” ordered the prince. “Sir Ewen, Sir Baris, can we count on you to help?”

“You have my axe!” quoth Sir Baris.

“Would you, Sir Ewen, take command of the farthest tower on the battlements?”

“Yes, Your Highness. We will hold it.”

“There are only three of you. I will send men with you. Choose!”

Tora, drawing on her earlier contact with the men-at-arms, whispered three names in Sir Ewen’s ear. Ewen picked two of her recommendations, men named Kemp and Marten, and Sir Kelwyn to join them. Sir Edric was not pleased to see Kelwyn go, but the prince dismissed his objections. Sir Ewen led his men to their post.

Cekiya thought that when Sir Ewen announced his name, a flash of emotion crossed Sir Kelwyn’s face. What it was, she could not tell.

On the way to the tower, Ewen noted that a number of Vikings had assembled on the far side of the bridge, near Tentru manor. They were milling about; it was difficult to tell their intention, but it was a sizable force, fifty to sixty men. If this attack continues, Ewen thought, the curtain wall will have to be abandoned for lack of men, and the defenders retreat to the keep.

They reached the far tower. The walls were about twenty-five feet high, and the tower another ten feet again. From that height, they could see, forming up along the road to the castle, a mass of Vikings, in eight packs of about fifty men each. On the south side of the castle another horde formed. Ladders lay on the ground, ready to be grabbed on the way to walls. Bowmen, in separate groups, prepared. To the north, the longboats were guarded by a small garrison, of twenty or thirty men.

Out by themselves at the far tower, Ewen’s handful of men felt more like a hunting party than a company of war. Kelwyn, his confidant demeanor discarded, seemed smaller. He had a bow and a short sword, and wore a habergeon of mail. Kemp and Marten had ring mail and were similarly armed. Each had two quivers of arrows, about fifty flights in all, and more could be fetched from the lower levels.

“I make the range to the road as just outside the effective range of our bows,” said Ewen. “What say you, Sir Baris?”

“FIRE!”

“Not quite what I meant.”

“Out of range of their bows, mayhap, but not mine,” said Tora. She unlimbered Imarë’s bow, took careful aim at a knot of huscarls and fired. Her first shot missed, but her second planted in a Viking skull.

Du skrämde skiten ur mig! The Vikings shouted and waved their shields, laughing and shouting mocking gibberish at Tora. Then the call for attack came.

The barbarians poured through the gates, splitting between the first and second. The first wave came on with shields raised, the second stooped to grab the ladders from the ground. Two hundred headed for Sir Ewen’s sector, two hundred for the western tower. The prince had not said Sir Ewen was responsible for the intervening curtain wall, but it was hard to see who else would hold it.

Earth had been built up at spots next to the ostler’s wall. The first wave of Vikings scrambled up and over these embankments, then dashed in toward the curtain wall. Tora and the men at arms began a steady fire. Attackers went down, but only a trickle out of a deluge. Return fire pocked the battlements.

The men with the ladders began to scale the ostler’s wall. The defenders redirected their fire toward these new targets. Marten’s arrow misfired and the arrow swam across Kemp’s chest – fortunately to no effect, but valuable time was lost. Ladders went down, tangling their bearers and holding up the assault.

Ewen surveyed the wall. The attack on the southern side must have started first; ladders were already up there, though no vikings yet on the battlements.

Marten misfired again. The arrow grazed Sir Ewen’s groin and embedded in the floor. Ewen grabbed the bow out of Marten’s hand and snarled out an order to fetch more arrows. Marten hurriedly went below.

All three ladders were ready for planting. The Vikings had lost at least ten men in the process, but had more to spare.

Now Kemp’s arrow went wild, flying toward the river. It was as if a curse had settled over their bows, repeatedly turning fine shots into parodies, as if some unseen, random force were mocking the archers.

The Vikings began to move across the field. Tora did a quick ammunition check; the group had used about two hundred arrows, and had close to one hundred left. Viking shots whirred uselessly overhead. The defenders seized the pause as a chance to rest, and tried not to think about the attack they were about to meet.

Rain beaded on Ewen’s face. He could see the prince across the castle, the circlet of gold appearing at intervals, moving in and out of the towers. On the far tower, a vicious melee continued.

Cekiya and Kaelyn could see some of the Vikings assaulting the far tower out the arrow slit in the throne room. For some reason, the Vikings were assaulting only the curtain wall, not the keep. Kaelyn moved her hands in the spell Ethereal Orb of Water, and many Vikings found the raindrops swelling, enveloping them, drowning them. Kaelyn knew she was grossly violating the Shek P’var code, but this drew only a chuckle. Again and again she cast, thick with bloodlust, until the arcane forces lashed back at her, and her magic proved in vain.

A harrumph came behind the women. They turned to find servants, curtseying to Kaelyn.

“You’ve been moved, ma’am, one level down. But you’ll have to go down two levels, then up to the left … ” Kaelyn followed them, accompanied by Cekiya, to her new quarters, a small room on the third floor of the keep. The servants evidently had their own ways, and a siege of the castle was insufficient disruption for them to alter their routine.

“Has Sir Ewen been moved as well?” she asked.

“Yes, Sir Ewen has been moved to that one on the left, and Sir Baris there on the right. Assuming they survive the fight.”

“Who used to occupy these rooms, may I ask?”

“They were empty. They should have been assigned to you in the first place.”

“Thank you.”

Cekiya spotted the Viking horde on the ostler’s common. They were guiding a ladder up the tower and another up the battlement. She craved to burn a ladder, to see it go up like a candle wick and the men upon it melt like wax. But she had no real way to do it, so she set off to find Ewen. She strolled the landward side of the wall, passing grunting, dying soldiers with hardly a notice.

On Sir Ewen’s tower, the defenders rested and waited for the enemy onslaught. Their break was interrupted by ladders clanking against the middle tower and the curtain wall.

“Beg pardon, Sir Ewen,” said Kelwyn, “but might I draw your attention to the left?”

Ewen looked. The curtain wall was being overrun. A mere five men still defended the sector, and even as he watched, one of them was cut down.

“Perhaps they need a good scare put into them,” said Kelwyn.

Ewen prepared a spell. As he did, he felt Kelwyn’s hand on his elbow. An illusion of lightning formed around the besieged castle, first a rumble in the heavens, then jagged shards of energy stabbing down onto the battlements. A concentration of lightning strikes such as had never been seen. Friend and foe alike ran for their lives. Sir Ewen ordered Sir Baris to reinforce the defenders of the curtain wall.

As Sir Baris left, a ladder hit the tower. Tora tried to push it off. An arrow thudded into her chest; her armor absorbed it. She kicked again, and the ladder swung back and down, falling like an autumn leaf. Another arrow landed on her belly, the tip just reaching through to the flesh. A drop of blood ran down the inside of her hauberk. Some might have flinched at the close call, but Tora ripped the arrow out and fired it back at the enemy with bloodcurdling defiance.

The men-at-arms whined to Sir Baris that the lightning was all about.

“Fight! You’re with me!” he bellowed.

“Which of the fine gentlemen are you?”

“It is I, Sir Baris!”

“Up Sir Baris!”

That’s never gonna get old, thought Sir Baris. They pressed the fight on.

In Cekiya’s sector, a pair of Vikings had reached the battlement and were grappling with the defenders, their backs to her. Cekiya casually strolled past one and stabbed him in the kidney in passing. The Viking roared and spun, giving the man-at-arms he was fighting the opportunity to smash him in the back, almost knocking him into Cekiya’s arms. She smiled.

“Who are you?” asked the Kaldoric soldier.

“I’m the cat,” said Cekiya. She spun around and dispatched another Viking just off the ladder. “You’re welcome.” she added.

At Sir Ewen’s tower, Tora had up until that point successfully prevented any ladders from getting a grip, but another was on its way, propelled by a large, screaming band of Vikings.

“Marten! Kemp!” she said. “I’ll take out the first man on it, and you fire from the left and right. Kelwyn, if anyone get up, they’re yours.”

The Vikings began to climb, eager for blood. Only one made it to the crenellations, and Kelwyn dispatched him forthwith.

Yet another ladder was set, next to Sir Baris. The knight waited, battleaxe drawn, until he saw a helmeted, bearded head. He immediately knocked the attacker into open air, and swung at the next. The Viking blocked his blow, but Sir Baris’s axe moved faster than anyone would expect from such an expanse of steel, cutting off the Viking’s right forearm. He dropped, screaming, taking out the man under him on the ladder.

The rain continued, washing the blood from the battlements. The Vikings broke and ran, pulling the ladders to the ostler’s wall, using them to climb it, then pulling the ladders after them. The previous day’s battle had lasted four hours. With the help of Sir Ewen and his companions, today’s was, but one.

Cekiya reached Sir Baris. He was covered with blood and had a human arm stuck in his belt. A left arm, she idly noted.

The defenders rushed to care for their wounded and dump the bodies of the enemy over the walls, sure that this respite would only last until the Vikings could regroup and attack again. But by noon, it was apparent that no such thing was happening.
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Matt
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